HPAUSI
by Ze Puffa God
Summary: Harry Potter is Harry Potter. Or is he? He certainly doesn't appear to be so... What will our little Self Insert do to plunge a slightly AU Harry-Potterverse into chaos?
1. First of the Chapters of the Story

Ladies, Gentlemen and Others! Here's my first fan-fiction, and as the smarter of you may have deduced from carefully analysing the title of thread, it is a Harry Potter Alternate Universe Self Insert. The _really _smart ones might have noticed it is of no coincidence that my HP AU SI is rather appropriately named "HPAUSI". This is not, in any way, supposed to represent my lack of skill in coming up with good titles. No, really.

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**First of the Chapters that I have published in this story** (a.k.a. "**Chapter 1**")

Harry Potter was Harry Potter… except not really.

You see, on this most specific of nights, a completely different person woke up in the space that he would normally occupy. Said person had compiled a list of problems within seconds of awakening: A: He was in a cupboard. B: He seemed shorter. C: He was hungry. Deeming the designated "C" of least importance; he fumbled around on the desk in search of his glasses. Once he had located the light switch, he took a good look in the mirror. That was weird. He didn't remember having messy hair, green eyes, round glasses or an age of what seemed to be 11. Then it clicked.

"WHA-"

Clasping his hand over his mouth abruptly, the new Harry began to think at light speed (or at least, what he believed to be). The questions taking priority were: 'Am I in canon?' and 'At what point in the story am I?' Thus, on a quest to rectify his current loss of answers, he got dressed and crept out into the corridor. Since he saw no evidence of… _school material_… it was deduced that he was currently either in First Year, or before. His line of thought shrivelled and died when he saw a large mound in front of him. Analysing this mound revealed it to be a grey-haired walrus of a man with a wrinkled, yet pudgy face emitting nasal wheezes (which were probably supposed to count as "snores"). He shuddered. Vernon Dursley was uglier than he had imagined.

After choosing the path furthest from his uncle, Harry reached into the front door's letterbox and searched.

There!

Reflecting some of the ambient light from the window, the Hogwarts Crest looked up to greet him. Hastily stashing its accompanying letter into the folds of his hand-me-downs, Harry sneaked back to his cupboard-room; careful to avoid making a sound-

_Creeeeeaaaakkkkk….._

Harry had locked the door before Dursley had even got up, leaving the unfortunate man to bash on the door; howling for the letter to be returned. This was gladly ignored by our Self Insert in favour of examining his prize. _Everything seems to be in order… _he mused, flipping the envelope over. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and steadied himself. _Okay, this seems to be canon so…_ The envelope was ripped open, followed by the seal. Unfurling the parchment, Harry allowed himself a grin. Said grin disappeared quickly with a tugging feel in his navel and a slight glowing of the paper in his hands. _This isn't canon! _he mentally screamed as he was subjected to a vortex of colour, sound and undefinable... stuff.

After impacting with a cold marble floor, the protagonist surveyed his surroundings. A grey and reflective marble floor, a tiled stone wall, a chandelier hanging from a void-like ceiling, gloomy atmosphere… "Yep, this room is pretty Medieval Goth,_"_ he snarked. Harry turned around to see two men, one taller than the other, both wearing masks. They were both facing him, frozen as if in shock.

"Harry Potter?" the shorter questioned, "Why _him_, of all people?"

The other was quick to regain his composure: "He's been living with _Muggles_. What do you expect? It's likely he's grown an attachment – treat him the same as any Muggleborn."

"I know; but still. _Harry Potter?!_"

The more confident of the two turned slightly to his companion. "Yes."

They immediately gained a professional air; traversing the distance between themselves and their 'client' in perfect sync. One of them procured a scroll out of thin air, thrusting it into the confused Harry's possession. "Sign!" they commanded.

Of course, the paper was read:_ "I, _, swear to never reveal, or even imply, the existence of magic to **any **the Wizarding Community would deem Muggle."_ Harry looked up and saw that, from the looks of things, the duo were quite willing to wait a while for his decision.

He signed.

_Why did I do that? WhydidIdothatwhydidIdothat**WHYDIDIDOTHAT?! **_were Harry's thoughts when he felt foreign magic do _something _within his body. _It doesn't make sense_; _it was almost like something was _compelling _me…_ So caught up was he in inner turmoil; he didn't notice the wand pointed at him until it was too late.

"Obliviate."


	2. Second Part of a Series Named HPAUSI

For those of you not wondering, the title is pronounced: _H'powsy. _Just thought I'd clear that up.

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**Second Part of a Series Named "HPAUSI", that is Insufficiently Long and Shouldn't have Taken Weeks to Complete** (a.k.a. **Chapter 2**)

I landed in a heap. Scratching dust out of my eyes, I looked up – _way _up – to see a behemoth of a man, complete with a patched jacket and scraggly beard, staring down at me, arms crossed.

"You're Harry Potter?" Hagrid boomed.

"Err… yeah," I answered. Having a portkey in the _Hogwarts letter to_ Diagon Alley was a bit unorthodox; though not unwelcome. I turned away from the sun- wait, sun? Why was it day-time? Anyway… "Who're you?" I asked – it wouldn't do any good to blurt out a name I had no right of knowing.

"My name's Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts. I'm here to help you get your school equipment."

"Ah, I see."

He moved to a dilapidated wall, filled with crumbling bricks that gave the appearance of centuries' neglect. It unfurled and Hagrid stepped through, with me following swiftly afterwards. He spread his arms out.

"Welcome to Vertic Alley!" he announced. Vertic? Oh, ha-ha, very funny. I examined the street – it was mostly empty; lone figures tending to their shops being the only people I could make out. Was I the only one to get a Letter-Portkey? Or was I just the first? …Wait. I didn't get a choice in enrolment! Those _bastards_. I would've said yes anyway; but still – those _bastards._

"This here's Gringotts Bank," my guide indicated, directing my gaze towards the imposing white building to the left. Approaching the entrance, I caught sight of a monstrosity stood by the wall – a short and wrinkled fiend sporting a grin that distorted its already warped visage to frankly disturbing levels. While it had uncanny resemblance to a certain George Bush, closer inspection led me to the conclusion it was just a goblin. It stepped aside and bowed as we came in, though I caught the look of distaste that flashed across its face as the revolving doors closed.

"We'll get some money from your savings, and then we'll be off," Hagrid revealed, rather redundantly. I half-heartedly nodded; more interested in the plaque on the next set of doors: _We cannot be held accountable for the loss of a fool's life – it is recommended said fools keep their selfish desires to themselves. _Well, that was rather blunt. It's still better than that poem though.

A rollercoaster ride later (I noted the dragons' location for when I got round to world domination), we found ourselves standing in front of an obsidian slab-like door. After much fumbling, Hagrid produced a single rusted key from his jacket. The vault was opened, and I was left rather underwhelmed. Sure, there was a pile of money, with a few jewels here and there, but it wasn't _extravagant_. _No large-scale projects for now…_

I, ever so subtly, slipped a galleon into my back pocket.

As we headed for the nearest shop, I realised the Hagrid in this continuity was _smarter_ – he probably had the stone already; knowing that seeing it would only fuel my curiosity. I grinned._What a shame_.

"Choose one," the subject of my musings grunted. Shaken from the aforementioned musings, I noticed we were in some kind of owl shop; so choose I did. Or, at least, I tried. An assortment of mediocre and outright stupid-looking creatures gazed at me from their rotting wooden cages, and I shook my head in disgust. None of them looked interesting in the least. Surely there was _something _noteworthy? I scanned the room. _Ah! _I spotted a cage in the corner of the room, shrouded in darkness. _Ooh, ominous_. I approached it cautiously and was subject to a rather curious sight. An owl that looked like it had been kept in a nuclear generator for a few months; was missing an eye and displayed feathers of various shades of red, brown and white? It was _perfect_. I lifted its cage and dragged it up to the counter.

"Are you _sure_ you want _that?_" the shopkeeper asked incredulously.

"Yep!" I chirped.

"You can… you can have it for free," she said, "that thing's been scaring away customers."

I caught Hagrid's wary expression as I skipped out of the store, my new owl smothered in my arms. I turned to him and raised an eyebrow, questioningly.

"Err, nice. Nice owl you got there. You named it?" he inquired.

I hastily ravaged my brain for something appropriate. "Eldritchard," I declared. Judging by his now-confused look, I could surmise that he didn't get the reference. Bloody wizards.

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Remember that Harry's not omniscient - he is limited by perspective. And lack thereof due to Obliviation. He is also under the assumption that this universe is more along the lines of canon than it actually is. Oh, the mistakes he will make...


	3. Threedom

It's funny 'cos I had this practically finished 2 weeks ago. How time flies, eh? Sorry, I was out in Bratislava.

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**Threedom **(chapter title in no way related to plot)

Due to me and Hagrid coming to Dia- _Vertic _Alley so early, the next few store visits were rather uneventful (though we did, of course, get my school equipment). So when we walked up to the small and somewhat charred building with the name _Ollivander's_ inscribed on it; I was giddy with excitement.

"This should be the last of 'em," murmured Hagrid, consulting the school's list. Folding the parchment up, he pointed a pudgy finger to our final destination. "We'll get your wand here, Harry."

I, however, wasn't listening. Barging through the door, I called out for the resident wand-maker: "Hello? Is anyone there?" Taking a moment to swat some dust away from my face, I surveyed the interior of the shop. It was dull and musty, with hundreds of black boxes cluttered around the desk and shelves – disappearing through an open doorway to what seemed to be a stockroom. Hagrid entered and took the chipped stool next to the wall, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was going to sleep through this? He probably didn't get enough at the school anyway. I turned and found a wizened face disturbingly close to mine. I screamed in fright, jumping back with my arms held out defensively.

"Quite the lively one, aren't you Potter?" asked Ollivander.

"Well-"

"That was rhetorical," he interrupted, peering at me with mercury-tinted eyes. "Here to get your wand so soon? I would advise you not to practise with it at home, though…" He pulled out a wand, aiming at my face.

"What are you doing?!"

"_Adepto Vitam!_"

I waited. What happened? I slowly opened my eyes to the sight of glowing runes surrounding the old man.

"Yes, yes. To be expected really. Now… which wand would that be…?" he trailed off, noticing my panicked expression. "Oh, come off it Potter; it's not harmful."

"Then what was it?" I demanded.

He gave me a curious look, and then stalked off into the gloom at the back, shaking his head. Realising that he probably wasn't coming back any time soon, I sat down in another stool opposite Hagrid's.

_When did that get there?_

I twiddled my thumbs, gazing occasionally at where Ollivander had gone off to. Finally, after what seemed like a minute of awkward silence; I leapt to my feet, kicking the chair onto its side. I slammed my fists on the counter's mahogany surface. "Oi! Get back here!" I hollered. Now, normally I would consider myself a patient person; but I wanted to be able to perform magic _as soon as possible_: I was almost _drooling _at the possibilities…

"Just a moment!" came the reply, jostling me from fantasies of magical Wardenclyffe Towers. He emerged from the shadows a few seconds later, carrying a wooden case in tow. He placed it on the table. "This wand… Holly and Phoenix Feather core, 11 inches – yes – it's very… curious that it would choose you."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; but that was only because they had widened in surprise. "Wait, why didn't I try out anything?" I questioned.

The wand-maker looked scandalised. "'Try out'?" he scoffed. "I'm the finest in the country! You think I'd lower myself to trial and error? What do you think that spell I cast on you was?"

"Ah, so it told you my wand affinity," I realised. "Sorry."

"Don't worry; I have to put up with idiots like you all the time."

I opened my mouth in indignation.

"As I was saying," he continued, paying no heed to my ire, "the wand you chose… shares its Phoenix Tail core's source with one other; the one that gave you that _scar_."

"Who owned it?"

The man jerked back as if struck. He observed Hagrid's sleeping form with bewilderment; then turned back to me with a raised eyebrow. "He didn't tell you?"

"No," I confessed.

"Voldemort was his name. You were the one who defeated him, as a child. Or so they say."

An awkward silence followed. I took the box and shifted it from hand to hand. "Alright then. I'll take it."

"That'll be 7 Galleons."

I went to wake up the sleeping half-giant to get said amount, but stopped mid-step as a brilliant idea hit me. I turned back and leaned on the counter. "Say, can customers customise their wands? Request changes to their integral structures?" I asked, grinning.

"I don't know where you're going with this," said Ollivander, "but yes. It'll cost a lot though!"

"I don't care about money. All I want is for you to answer one question: can you make this," here I waved the wand's case, "work like a gun?"

"Only one other person's asked that…" he mumbled.

"Who was it?"

"They were anonymous. In any case, it will be hard to use. It will work very differently from your classmates' wands; it will be harder to control – even _perform_ – your spells; it will arrive late and -"

"Can you do it?"

"…yes. It'll work a bit like, and resemble, a pistol."

The grin I wore earlier now threatened to split my face. "_Excellent._"


End file.
